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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807433">Names We Used to Know</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/themomentofdavyprentiss/pseuds/feathersmcgraw'>feathersmcgraw (themomentofdavyprentiss)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - No Nen, Gen, M/M, Tags to be Added as Updated, Trauma, and i attempt to turn the alluka/nanika dynamic into something that makes sense in a modern au, but id much quicker call this a gen fic, hisoillu definitely plays a role, its a character study exploring grief and familial trauma, kalluto and illumi do ballet, kalluto gets the attention he deserves, mentions of abuse, mentions of eating disorders, ordinary people meets fruits basket meets... bunheads?, where illumi and milluki get the redemptions they deserve</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:41:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,125</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807433</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/themomentofdavyprentiss/pseuds/feathersmcgraw</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Assassins aren’t the ones that are supposed to die, not the ones that are good, not the ones that are meant to be the shining exception, the platonic ideal, not the ones who were born to lead the most powerful and feared family of assassins in the world. </em>
    <br/>
    <br/>
    <em>But Killua Zoldyck did die. </em>
    <br/>
  </p>
</blockquote><em>
  <br/>
</em><br/>Two months after a tragedy takes Killua’s life, the rest of the Zoldycks struggle to find a way to move on. For the children still left alive, that means learning how to live without the one person they’ve been raised to protect and follow.<br/> <br/>Or, a year in the life of the siblings left behind.
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Part 1 Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is dedicated to my Phantom Troupe. Words cannot describe how much each and every one of you mean to me. </p><p>A special thank you to Haley, Ivanna and Abby. Without you three, this story would be nothing more than ideas left in a notebook to collect dust. I never imagined the one-shot hisoillu idea I had back in September would turn into this and without y'all there for me to talk to about all of my plans, ideas, and frustrations, I never would've stuck with this. </p><p>To be updated (hopefully) bi-monthly.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h1>Part One: Illumi</h1><p> </p><p>
  <em>Spring had always been good to the Zoldyck estate; the leaves of the trees swelled, their deep green hues canopied overhead. Despite all the properly laid paths of dirt and stone that wove through the property, Killua preferred to go and explore the less traversed parts of the mountain, using the roots of the trees as his guide.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Oftentimes, when Illumi would join Killua and attempt to use their time together as a teaching lesson, Killua forwent walking and chose instead to hang from his older brother’s arm like a monkey. Illumi kept one of his hands securely in his sweatshirt pocket and watched as his younger brother attempted to climb him, laughing freely as he did so. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He was six years old. Six, Illumi would remember later, was one of the best years that he would spend with his brother. At six years old, Killua was old enough to have developed some of the spunk that would come to dominate in later years, but young enough to still look up at his older brother with the thing Illumi desired most in the world: adoration. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You’ll never be able to run fast if you don’t use your legs.” Illumi scolded.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah, but if I keep hanging onto you, my arms will get super strong and I’ll be able to pull myself wherever I need to go.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And what if I am not there for you to hold onto?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Killua’s face scrunched. “Hmmm. I know! I’ll just run on my hands!” He let go of Illumi’s arm and jumped down onto the ground. Finding a soft spot on the forest floor, he gracefully tumbled forward and lifted himself onto his hands, wobbling slightly until he found his balance. “See! Just like this!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well that won’t do at all.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Killua frowned, lips turning up to the sky. “And why not?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Because we have only trained you to hold weapons in your hands. If you insist on fighting like this, I will have to put some knives between your toes.” Illumi walked over to Killua and grabbed his legs, bending them into a bowed formation. “I’ve heard of skilled archers who can shoot arrows using their feet with deadly accuracy. What do you think, Killua? Want to try your feet at using a bow?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>In response, Killua lifted his hands off the ground, allowing himself to swing limply from Illumi’s grasp. “Nah! Sounds too easy! I bet even Milluki could do that. Maybe I’ll use a sword! One even bigger than you!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Bigger than me? Can you even pick me up?” Illumi let go of Killua, letting him fall ungracefully onto his back. Killua didn’t appear fazed by being so casually dropped. Instead, he stood back up and grabbed Illumi’s arm again, swinging back into the position he was so fond of. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Duh. But I like it better when you carry me.” A ray of light from the sun shone through the thick ceiling of leaves above, and Killua turned to bury his head into Ilumi’s side. “Let’s go back to the house, I’m getting hungry.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Illumi brought his arm in front of him, so he could look his brother in the eyes. “Killua.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Killua raised an eyebrow at him. “Yeah?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“One day you will carry me.” It was not a question, nor a request. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>A smile. “Yeah, Illumi. Just like you’ve always carried me.”</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>The lilacs in the garden are dead.</p><p>It wouldn’t be something to pause at, except:<br/>
1. The Zoldyck family has several well renowned gardeners in their staff that know how to tend flowers properly, especially lilacs, which are known to be easy to maintain and grow.<br/>
2. It is late May, meaning this is the time that lilacs should be blooming, not dying.<br/>
3. This is now the second time this year that the lilacs in the garden have died. One group of flowers dying in season is an anomaly. Two, an omen.</p><p>Illumi brushes the thought aside. It’s the kind of thing only his mother would think, were she not bedridden and unaware of the state of the family’s horticulture. He would have to remember to talk to one of the staff members about this. If the flowers wouldn’t grow, there was no reason to keep trying and failing. They should clear the yard and replace the soil instead. There exists no sentimental attachment to lilacs, no important reason why they should try to plant them again, only to watch them rot.</p><p>He fights the urge to pluck one from the ground.</p><p>Instead, he checks the time on his phone. 6:24am. Kalluto is four — no, 6:25, five — minutes late. Illumi sighs. It is unbecoming of a Zoldyck to be late, even though he knows they will still make it to the studio with plenty of time to spare. This is the third time now that Kalluto has kept him waiting, and though it’s never for long, it is enough to irritate him.</p><p>Two more minutes, Illumi tells himself, and he will leave, but Kalluto comes running up the path not a minute later, signature kimono untied and flapping behind him. Illumi does not wait for him to catch up before walking, instead allowing his brother to fall in step besides him.</p><p>“You don’t have to wait for me outside, you know,” Kalluto grumbles.</p><p>“I would not have to wait if you were on time.”</p><p>“I’m only—” Kalluto checks his phone. “Six minutes late! And we’re still almost fifteen minutes early for when I need to get to the studio anyways.”</p><p>“When you asked me to start driving you to your practices, we agreed to meet at the archway at 6:20. I am just following through on our agreement.”</p><p>The agreement is one both siblings know to be entirely unnecessary. When Kalluto first approached Illumi with the offer, he gave no explanation as to why he wished for his brother to be the one to start driving him, nor did he bother coming up with a reason why his usual chauffeur would no longer be suitable. The Zoldycks have more butlers employed than family members, and any of them would have been available to drive Kalluto wherever he wanted to go.</p><p>But relationships with Illumi have always been give and take, and he did not hesitate to accept. He always held an affinity for his youngest brother, Illumi told himself, and he swallowed the word that kept pushing against his mind when he saw those eyes, so large and pink, looking up at him in a way he had not seen in a long time.</p><p>No, Illumi has always loved Kalluto.</p><p>They round a corner on the path and make their way to the garage where a car already awaits them. The butlers bow in greeting, opening the driver’s door for Illumi and the back for Kalluto. The garage is located in the far east corner of the estate, so it doesn’t take long for Illumi to pull out of the driveway, through the gates, and onto the main road ahead.</p><p>“Illuni,” Kalluto says, scooting to the edge of his seat, “mother said you used to dance at this studio as well.”</p><p>“Yes, that is correct. I danced there for many years. I believe I stopped when I was around your age.” Illumi pauses to think. “No, I was several years older. I quit when I was 16.”</p><p>“Why did you stop?”</p><p>“It was no longer useful to me in my training. The dancing came quite in handy for me when it came to stealth, but not so much in actual combat. I am much more suited to martial arts.” Illumi stops at a red light, turning the left blinker on.</p><p>“Did you like it?”</p><p>The light turns green. Illumi turns. “Hmmm. I’ve never considered it before. Yes, I suppose I did like it. I liked it a lot, actually.”</p><p>“Would you ever consider doing it again?”</p><p>“For what purpose?”</p><p>“Well… because you liked doing it.”</p><p>It’s not typical of Kalluto to be so talkative, nor to get so personal. “I do not often do things simply for the pleasure of them.”</p><p>Kalluto shifts in his seat. “My coach told me that sometimes dancing can help with processing emotions. You know—” His fingers tighten around the headrest in front of him, and he presses his cheek against it, looking out the window instead of at Illumi. “Sadness. Grief. It’s been helping me. Maybe it would be good for you too.”</p><p>“I am not in grief.” The road continues on, curving, but there aren’t any more turns before their destination.</p><p>“I don’t believe you.”</p><p>A stop light. It does not stay red long. “That is your choice.”</p><p>“We’re all in grief, Illumi.”</p><p>“No, we are all in mourning.” Illumi slows the car, turning into the parking lot of the strip mall that houses Kalluto’s dance studio. It’s quiet and unassuming, not a place one would expect an elite assassin to frequent, making it all the more appropriate. “We are here.”</p><p>Kalluto looks at his phone, frowning slightly. “My coach says she’ll be late.” His eyes turn up towards Illumi. “Would you like to come in with me and see the routine I’m working on?”</p><p>A swell of something rises in Illumi’s chest. Pride, maybe, mixed with satisfaction. He is both glad for Kalluto’s request as well as the changing of subjects. He nods. “Very well.”</p><p>The two make their way into the building and Illumi follows Kalluto into an empty practice room. Though Illumi isn’t dressed for dancing, he joins Kalluto in his stretches. The two carry on in silence for several minutes, until Kalluto finally rises. Illumi clears the floor for his brother and sits further back, legs crossed.</p><p>Kalluto plugs his phone into one of the speakers and hits play before running towards the center of the barre. The music takes a moment to begin, timed to allow Kalluto to take first position. It starts, and he takes flight.</p><p>His moves are mesmerizing. The Zoldyck children have always held a reputation for being beautiful, but Kalluto’s aura is unlike anything Illumi has witnessed before. Its pull reminds him of their mother, but Kalluto is a being that exists unblemished, untouchable, a perfect porcelain doll that has not aged or cracked. Illumi knows that beauty will only become more lethal as Kalluto grows older.</p><p>The piece he performs is one adapted from Coppelia, or so that’s what Illumi remembers Kalluto telling him. He can tell right away why Kalluto’s coach picked this routine. The choreography is simple enough, but it relies heavily on being en pointe, something he knows Kalluto has only begun to attempt.</p><p>To most anyone watching, his moves would appear flawless. Kalluto knows how to keep in tempo, and his transitions are near perfect. Each spin is delicate; each hop precise, but Illumi’s eye is sharper than most and he can see where Kalluto falters. It’s subtle, but he strains each time he lifts himself onto his toes, stiffens his neck when he extends his arms. Illumi can see by the way Kalluto’s eyes cut to him that his mind isn’t fully in the song, but rather on his brother.</p><p>Still, the promise Kalluto shows is remarkable.</p><p>The song ends and Kalluto returns to first, cheeks slightly puffed and chest rising quickly. Illumi sees the question in his eyes.</p><p>“That was good.” Illumi offers.</p><p>Kalluto smiles. “Really?”</p><p>“Yes. Much better than I was at your age. I don’t believe I ever attempted to go en pointe.” At that, Kalluto blushes.</p><p>“Well… my coach says it isn’t common for boys to ever try…”</p><p>“No, but the ability for you to be able to balance your entire weight to one point will be invaluable going forward.” Illumi notices Kalluto shift and glances down to his feet, where he has begun to press the top of his foot against the ground. He looks back at Kalluto. “You hurt yourself.”</p><p>Kalluto’s blush deepens. “No, I’m alright.” But his feet continue to fidget, and Illumi continues to stare him down. “I might have done more pointes than I normally do when I practice. I usually do most of them as releves instead.”</p><p>Illumi sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger before kneeling down. He taps one of Kalluto’s feet. “Let me see them.”</p><p>Kalluto rests his foot on Illumi’s knee, but before Illumi can remove his shoe, the door to the practice room opens. Both of them turn to see who’s there, and Illumi thinks the world must truly be out to get him when he recognizes the man in the doorway. He drops Kalluto’s foot and stands.</p><p>“Oh, I’m so sorry to interrupt.” The man says, the gleam in his eyes betraying his words. “I didn’t realize you were scheduled to practice today, Kalluto, and I assumed the room was unoccupied.”</p><p>“It’s alright Hisoka.” Kalluto responds. “I was just showing my brother the routine I’m currently working on.”</p><p>Hisoka grins, inviting himself further into the room. “Oh how lovely! I did not realize Illumi still danced. I was under the impression he retired years ago.”</p><p>Kalluto shoots a look towards Illumi, eyebrow quirking up. “You two know each other?”</p><p>Hisoka answers before Illumi can. “Oh yes, your brother and I are well acquainted. Though it’s been a long time now since we’ve seen each other. One, two years? Far too long, in any case. Had I known I would run into you today, I would have worn something much nicer than this old leotard.”</p><p>Finally, Illumi says something. “It has been two years. I was not aware you also frequented this studio.”</p><p>“Oh, I frequent several studios in this city, for the same reason I’m sure Kalluto does.” Hisoka’s expression goes somber. “I’m glad I was able to see both of you together. I have not yet had the opportunity to express my condolences to Kalluto, and now I can give them to you as well.”</p><p>Illumi says, “That is not necessary,” at the same time Kalluto says, “How do you know about that?”</p><p>Hisoka addresses Kalluto first. “My dear, you are a Zoldyck. Anyone with a finger on the pulse of this city’s underground knows about what happened.” He turns to Illumi. “It may not be necessary, but I offer it anyways. I never met Killua, but I know all too well the tragedy of losing someone too soon. Such potential, wasted. Such sweet fruit, plucked before it was ripe. It breaks my heart just thinking about it. Your family is still in mourning, I’m sure, though I was surprised to learn there was never a funeral, or even a wake.”</p><p>The skin on the back of Illumi’s neck begins to prickle. He smells something vaguely metallic, and wills himself to keep his composure. “If there was one, Hisoka, I can assure you that you would not be on the guest list.”</p><p>He laughs at that, causing Illumi to tense up even further. “No? Illumi, you hurt my feelings. I know it has been a while, but you must know how highly I regard you.” He winks at Kalluto. “All of you.”</p><p>There’s an uncomfortable pause where Kalluto or Illumi should say something, but neither of them do. “I can tell when I’m not wanted,” Hisoka says, unfazed. “I’ll be going now, but Illumi, really, won’t you give me a call? I’m sure we have much to catch up on.” He heads back towards the door, turning once he reaches the frame. “And Kalluto, I cannot wait to see what you’re working on! I’m sure it’s beautiful.” With that, Hisoka closes the door behind him, leaving the two brothers alone once again.</p><p>“How do you know Hisoka?” Kalluto asks.</p><p>“We are going to find you a new studio to train at.” Illumi responds.</p>
<hr/><p>After Kalluto’s teacher arrives, Illumi heads back to the car. Before he gets in, though, he digs through his pockets. As much as he would like to deny it, he does know Hisoka, and the man never leaves without planting some sort of calling card. One of his magic tricks, he calls them. Insurance, essentially, to make sure he gets to see Illumi again.</p><p>Sure enough, Illumi pulls out a folded piece of paper. Along with a phone number, it reads:</p><p>
  <em>I know of a rumor you would be most interested in. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It’s about Killua. </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you're curious, here is a link to the dance I watched as inspiration for Kalluto's routine that he performs for Illumi: </p><p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zn1bxP9pSfA</p><p>And the fanart that inspired the opening flashback: </p><p>https://www.pinterest.com/pin/407646203772512088/</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 1 Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> Illumi fucked up. </em>
</p><p><em> The job should’ve been easy. It was a simple in and out for a politician whose fortune couldn’t outweigh the target on his back. Illumi had been doing this regularly for two years, he should’ve already been on his way home, internally complaining about having not been given something more worth his time. </em> Easier jobs will allow us to focus on the baby, <em> Silva told him. </em>We can afford a couple months without any major assignments. </p><p>
  <em>Silva would skin Illumi alive if he came back and told him he’d let the target get away. Illumi certainly wouldn’t be allowed back onto the property until he finished the job, and there was no telling how long that would take if the target were to get onto the private jet he was running towards. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He had gotten a minute’s head start, and Illumi lost sight of the man as he entered the hangar in front of them. Illumi broke into a sprint, but when he got to the hanger, he froze. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His target’s body was contorted on the ground, blood pouring from a wound on his neck. Crouching over the body was a ridiculously dressed teenager. He draped his left arm across his torso while his right hand held a playing card stained and dripping a deep red. Illumi thought he looked like a character from one of Milluki’s video games, with his crop top and loose pants a shade of lavender that matched the color of his hair. A clover and spade were painted on his cheeks, the detail to their outlines suggested a lot of time was taken to draw them on. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Most striking, though, were his eyes, not focused on Illumi but on the body in front of him. They reminded Illumi of Killua’s. Though different in color — his were yellow where Killua’s were blue — there was something inherently cat-like in both of their gazes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Illumi felt his chest tighten, an unfamiliar lightness settling in his stomach. “That was my target.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The boy looked up, finally acknowledging Illumi’s presence. He pouted in mock confusion. “Are you sure? From the looks of it, you weren’t doing a very good job.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I had it under control.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Did you now? That’s my mistake, then. I just wanted to help.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Yes, that is your mistake.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t funny, but the comment made the stranger laugh anyways. Illumi was transfixed by the sight of his teeth. Perfectly white and fanged, they looked like they could bite through anything. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Illumi’s pulse quickened. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re sharp,” The stranger told him. “I like that. But I must admit, I’ve been disappointed in what I’ve seen here today. I expected more out of a Zoldyck.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em> So that was it. This kid followed Illumi in an attempt to gauge his skill level and, by his words, Illumi failed whatever test had been laid out for him. At twelve, Illumi was old enough to know how much power his last name held, and someone being witness to an almost-failed mission could be very bad for business, as well as reputation. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well, I have to kill you now, too. So at least you will not be disappointed for long.”   </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The stranger’s eyes widened, and a smile fanned out on his face. “Me? You couldn’t even kill a fourth rate politician! What makes you think you could so much as graze me?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I could have handled it fine without you.” Illumi started to grow irritated with the conversation, and also slightly nervous. Something didn’t feel right, and he knew he couldn’t let whoever this was leave alive. Illumi pulled out one of his knives and rushed the stranger before he could taunt him again. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The boy jumped up and dodged out of the way quickly, which Illumi expected, but then did not attempt to counter attack, which Illumi did not. The boy just stood there, slightly out of arms reach, watching as Illumi subsequently overshot his return. Both had been careful not to step in the bloody pool surrounding the body.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The stranger seemed to have no intention of fighting back; his arms hung casually by his sides. This only irritated Illumi even more. Was he not worth the effort of a proper fight? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> It didn’t matter. If the boy was going to underestimate Illumi, that just made his job easier.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>The stranger was tall, a little lanky even, and when Illumi charged again he focused his attention on the legs. He kept a half a thought open to the possibility that the stranger could try to counter attack, but Illumi correctly predicted that he wouldn’t. Instead, he side-stepped the attack like he did before, and Illumi followed his movements and dove, sliding in between the stranger’s legs. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The stranger lifted his right leg to avoid the swing of the blade in Illumi’s hand as he moved, which left him open for Illumi to stab his left calf with a poison needle. Illumi gained his footing facing the stranger’s back, so he couldn’t see his expression as his leg gave out beneath him. Illumi heard him, though, heard him begin to laugh in earnest. Though only one leg had gone numb, the stranger allowed himself to fall entirely onto his back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Illumi stared at the lavender curls that pooled around the boy’s head as he spoke. “That’s it! That’s what I was looking for! Oh, why didn’t you do something like this with your target?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I told you,” Illumi said, “you got in my way. You seem awfully thrilled for someone whose life is about to end.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, no. You aren’t going to kill me. That’s an honor I would only give to one of my closest friends.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My parents say I’m not allowed to have friends.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The stranger frowned at that. “No? That’s such a shame. Is there no one you care about, then?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Illumi couldn’t keep himself from smiling at that. “My brothers. I care about them. Especially my youngest.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, yes! Little Killua! Wasn’t he just recently born?”  </em>
</p><p><em>Illumi </em>began<em> counting on his fingers. “Eight days ago.” He was practically beaming. “He’s going to be the heir to the family. Father said so, Killua has his eyes, and his hair.” Illumi stopped, then glared back down at the stranger. “You distracted me. I’m supposed to kill you.”  </em></p><p>
  <em> The boy pushed himself up into a bridge position, then kicked his one good leg up so he was on his hands, almost in a full handstand. When he seemed to have enough weight off the ground, he began to shift his body so he could land on his good foot. Once he adjusted, he stood like a crane, numb leg folded onto the opposite knee. “Perhaps, but you aren’t going to. I already told you, only my friends can kill me, and it doesn’t seem like you’re interested in being one of them. Besides,” he winked at Illumi, “I think you like me.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The top of Illumi’s ears burned. He looked away. “I do not. You are annoying.” Still, Illumi did not make an effort to attack again, despite having a clear opening. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, don’t be disappointed. I’m sure we’ll see each other again. And don’t worry, your secret about this job is safe with me.” He pulled something out of his pocket, too small for Illumi to see. “Next time, do tell me what you think of this trick. I’ve been working on it for a while.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The stranger snapped his fingers, and a cloud of smoke erupted around him. Illumi ran into it, but as it began to clear, he was gone, as if he’d never been there to begin with. On the ground, Illumi noticed a small flyer and picked it up. It was an advertisement for a new show the Yorknew Acrobatics League was presenting. <br/></em>
</p><p> </p><p>Featuring a Debut Performance from Rising Gymnast Hisoka Morrow</p><p> </p><p>Hisoka, <em> Illumi whispered to himself, testing the name on his tongue. That was the boy’s name. He said it again as he walked home from the job, prepared to tell his father that everything went smoothly. And again under his breath during dinner, soft enough that none of his family heard him.  </em></p><p>Hisoka, <em> he told himself that night in bed as he began to drift asleep.  </em></p><p>Hisoka, Hisoka, Hisoka. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The cafe Hisoka and Illumi choose to meet at is practically abandoned. </p><p>When they speak on the phone, Hisoka tries to insist on a steakhouse uptown. More specifically, he insists on Illumi’s <em> favorite </em>steakhouse, one the two once frequented years ago. Illumi hasn’t been there since the last time the two worked together, but he knows exactly what would be waiting for him if he were to go.</p><p>Mahogany tables and handcrafted leather chairs. Live piano playing while the candles burn low. Extravagant wine, steaks so rare they’re bloody. Swaying together to the music on a dance floor that isn’t there. Hot lips pressing against his neck, back flush against a marble bathroom stall. </p><p>No.</p><p>Illumi can never fully predict what Hisoka might have planned, but this meeting is strictly about Killua. For all of his recklessness, Hisoka knows not to cross that line. Even so, Illumi insists on somewhere with less opportunities for… temptations. </p><p>He arrives thirty minutes early, orders a drink so pumped full of sugar and syrup one could barely classify it as <em> coffee, </em> then finds a table by one of the windows. The table, like most of the decor, is high rise and metal. A little industrial for Illumi’s taste, perhaps, but the large windows and plants that litter the interior are comforting in their own way. Illumi’s drink is still being prepared when he sees Hisoka walking towards the cafe. The bell above the door chimes when he walks in. </p><p>“You’re early,” Illumi says as Hisoka approaches him. </p><p>“So are you.” Hisoka points towards the counter. “Hope you don’t mind if I get myself a drink first?” </p><p>Illumi just nods, and watches as Hisoka goes to order. Black coffee, no cream or sugar. When he returns, he holds Illumi’s drink as well. A small bit of whipped cream from Illumi’s drink catches on Hisoka’s thumb, and after handing the cup off he licks it clean with a smirk. </p><p>“I’ve always found your sweet tooth to be adorable, you know.” Hisoka says cloyingly. </p><p>Illumi takes a long sip from his drink. “So, what is this rumor you heard about Killua?” </p><p>Hisoka leans forward, frowning. He puts his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. “It’s been so long, Illu. I don’t think we’ve ever gone this long without seeing one another before. Can we not talk about how you’re doing first?” </p><p>“No, we cannot. What did you hear? If it has anything to do with how he died, I’m leaving.” </p><p>An almost abnormally concerned look crosses Hisoka’s face, but Illumi doesn’t care. He might not have any non-familiar contacts outside of Hisoka and the butlers, but he knows what everyone is saying. With no funeral or official announcement of Killua’s death, everyone’s favorite mystery has become how he died. All of the speculations are grandiose, vulgar, and completely unfounded.</p><p>“The rumor is not concerning how he died.” Hisoka says. “Do you know a man named Child Klemins?”</p><p>Illumi shakes his head. </p><p>“That’s not surprising; he’s not a particularly memorable fellow. He fought at my combat ring for a couple years when I was first starting out, but he never made it very high up the ranks. More than fighting, Klemins had an interest in people. A wannabe informant, if you will.” He pauses, takes a sip of his coffee, then continues. “About a month ago, he showed up at Heaven’s Arena again, raving like a lunatic to anyone who would listen, spouting something about some divine awakening he’d experienced. The gods were with him, he said, and they’d sent him on a mission to collect the holy talismans of their prophets.</p><p>“Of course, that piqued my interest. What could’ve happened to such an unremarkable man to have him just appear one day acting in such a way? Well, after some talking, we exchanged information, and I told him that if he ever happened upon one of these ‘holy talisman’s’ he should give me a call so he could speak my fortunes to me.” Hisoka pulls his phone out and unlocks it. “A couple days before I ran into you and Kalluto, I got a text from him. It’s— well,” Hisoka decides against whatever it was he was going to say. “I think you should see for yourself.” </p><p>He hands the phone over to Illumi. Looking at the screen, it’s a text conversation from an unsaved number. The only message reads: <em> I secured one of the talismans. Ask me anything you want to know. This is the key to unlimited strength, straight from the most powerful child ever born, all his potential unused and preserved right here!</em></p><p>There’s a photo attached below the message, and the residual taste of sugar left in Illumi’s mouth goes acidic at the sight. </p><p>It’s a severed hand, cauterized at the wrist. Incredibly pale and slightly calloused, it couldn’t have belonged to anyone older than fourteen. </p><p>
  <em> A hand. </em>
</p><p>Illumi wills himself to keep his composure, and hands the phone back. “What am I looking at, Hisoka?” </p><p>“It looks like the newest item of a flesh collector who runs his mouth too much.” </p><p>All the things Illumi wants to say blur together in his mind, half formed and racing too rapidly to voice. <em> He is a liar. The hand is a fake. Where did he get that? That isn’t Killua’s. It is a fake. It isn’t Killua’s. He will pay for such an absurd lie. It is a fake. It is fake its fake its fake its fake its fake its fake is it fake is it fake is it fake is it fake is it—</em></p><p>“Illumi?” Hisoka’s voice breaks through the fog forming in his head. </p><p>“It is obviously fake,” is the only thing Illumi can get himself to say. </p><p>Hisoka takes another sip of his drink. “I’m sure. But your family held no funeral. There was no announcement of his death, and more importantly, no confirmation of a body being in your family's possession. Lunatic or not, if this man continues to advertise his new toy, it will create a resurgence of rumors, all of them worse than what’s been said already.” </p><p>Illumi knows this, of course. And everything in his body aches to leave where he is and sever the head of this ‘Klemins’ nerve by nerve. His brother isn’t a symbol, nor a prize to be won at an auction. It’s his brother, his <em>brother, </em>and Illumi can’t go on much longer allowing such filth to be spread around. </p><p>But Silva’s orders ring loudly in his ears. </p><p>Shortly after Killua died and Kikyo became bedridden, Silva held a family meeting with Zeno and the rest of his children. <em> Your grandfather and I will remain patient until your mother is well again, </em> he told them, <em> and when she is well, the three of us will decide how best to proceed with announcing Killua’s death to the public as well as declaring a new heir. Until then, we are to act as if everything is normal. </em></p><p><em> Any lies or slander spread will be dealt with by the butlers.  </em> <em> Under no circumstances are any of you to engage with these rumors. </em></p><p>Anyone less trained in the art of masking their emotions might be shaking in this moment, but Illumi is steady as he rises from his seat. “They are still just words, Hisoka, and until they are more than that I do not have business here with you.” </p><p>Before Hisoka can say what Illumi knows he must be thinking (<em> They’re not just words, is what I just showed you not enough, why even meet me here today </em>), Illumi is out of the cafe. As the bell chimes behind him and the wooden door shuts closed, he drops all appearances and makes a dash towards the lot where his car is parked. Had he been paying more attention to his surroundings, he might have spotted a head of green hair peeking behind a mailbox across the street, but Illumi only has one thing on his mind as he gets into the car and makes his way back home. </p><p>He needs to talk to Milluki. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Illumi wastes no time looking for his brother. It isn’t a difficult search; Milluki hasn’t left the mansion since he was a child and there are only so many rooms within that he ever inhabits. Predictably, Illumi finds him in his bedroom with the lights off, illuminated by the glow of his computer screen. He’s playing some video game Illumi doesn’t recognize, but it must not be particularly engaging, because Milluki turns towards the door as soon as it opens. </p><p>“What do you want?” Milluki asks. </p><p>“You and I are going to get drunk together.” </p><p>Milluki takes one of the ears of his headset off. “What, right now?” </p><p>“Yes.” </p><p>“It’s only 4pm.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Milluki sits for a minute, contemplating. Normally they wouldn’t be able to do this, family dinners are a core component of being part of the Zoldyck family, but Silva is gone on an assignment out of town and there won’t be one tonight. “I don’t want to go to a bar.”</p><p><em> Obviously. </em>“No, we can drink here. But we’ll have to make our own. The butlers can’t be around us for this.” </p><p>That gets Milluki’s attention. He takes his headset off completely. “You want to get drunk in the kitchen?”</p><p>Though the mansion has a full bar in one of the dining rooms, Milluki and Illumi have an old tradition of getting drunk in the reserve kitchen only used for large parties and events. Before either were of an appropriate age, the two brothers would sneak off to where they thought the staff couldn’t find them and drink until they were giddy. It’s been a long time since they’ve drunk together, and even longer since doing it in this way. </p><p>“That is correct.”</p><p>Milluki stands. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.” </p><p>In the kitchen, Milluki heads towards one of the wine cabinets and grabs a bottle of vermouth while Illumi finds two glasses. They go to a small table near one of the pantries and sit down. Like Illumi, Milluki wastes no time getting to the point. “So, what do you need from me?”</p><p>Illumi picks up the bottle from the table and pours some into the glass. “Who said I need anything from you? Perhaps I just wanted to spend time with my brother.” </p><p>Milluki takes the bottle from Illumi while he still holds it. “Uh huh. Sure. If this is some sort of audition for a new favorite sibling, I’m not interested. You’ll have better luck with Kalluto.” </p><p>“I’m offended,” Illumi says, because he is. Though it’s true that recently Milluki and Illumi haven’t spent as much time together as they once did, he still considers the two to be close. Kalluto and Alluka would disagree, but Illumi finds the time he spends with Milluki to be genuinely enjoyable. “You did not have to come with me if you did not want to.” </p><p>Milluki sighs and tries again. “If you just wanted to spend time with me and take a trip down memory lane, you wouldn’t have specifically mentioned that you wanted to avoid the butlers.” </p><p>“I need information on someone.” </p><p>“You don’t have to get me drunk to ask me to do my job. Which means it's something you don’t want anyone else in the family knowing about.” Milluki narrows his eyes. “That’s not like you. Who’s the person? What’s the job?”</p><p>“I’m tracking a man named Child Klemins. That’s the whole job.” </p><p>Milluki doesn’t buy it, Illumi is sure. “And why can’t anyone else know about it?”</p><p>“It’s… personal.” </p><p>Illumi can see the gears in Milluki’s head turn. Something must click into place, because Milluki groans. “Oh my god, are you sleeping with the clown again?”</p><p>“He’s not a clown. And I do not know why that is the first conclusion you jump to.” </p><p>Milluki gives him a look<em> . </em>“He’s the closest you’ve ever come to having a ‘personal life’. If it’s a personal job, that means he’s involved.” </p><p>The top of Illumi’s ears burn. He looks away. “I am not sleeping with him. He dances at the same studio Kalluto does, and I ran into him the other day while dropping him off.” Illumi doesn’t want to mention the rumor about Killua to Milluki, but he knows that if Milluki does agree to create a file on Klemins he’d find out either way. “I met him for coffee earlier today and… he told me that Child Klemnins might be tied to the person who killed Killua.” </p><p>Milluki pales. “Goddamnit,” he whispers into his wine glass. “I’m going to send drones to bomb that clown’s house.” He looks at Illumi, a rare intensity burning behind his eyes. “You can’t do this, Illumi. Whatever Hisoka told you, he’s probably lying. He’s just… stringing you along because he thinks it’ll be funny.”</p><p>“Perhaps. That is why I am asking you to help me instead.” Illumi realizes he’s already finished his first drink and goes to pour another. </p><p>“Dad is going to lose his mind if he finds out about this. You know, first Nanika and now this, I really—” The bottle in Illumi’s hand cracks loudly before shattering, cutting Milluki off mid sentence. The pieces of glass that don’t wedge themselves into Illumi’s hand explode out onto the table and floor as wine waterfalls down to the ground. The blood from the cuts on Illumi’s hand mix with the wine, the shades so similar the two cannot be distinguished from one another. </p><p>Milluki jumps out of his chair. “Holy shit, what the fuck?” </p><p>Illumi pays mind to neither the mess nor his hand. “What did you just say?” </p><p>Taking a rag from one of the sinks, Milluki attempts to wipe down the table, ignoring the floor for the time being. “So much for us getting drunk together,” he mumbles. Shaking his head, Milluki sweeps the glass together. “This was a bad idea, I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.” He balls all of the shards into the now wet cloth and goes to the nearest trash can, throwing the entire towel away. “Alluka and I are working together on an intel assignment for Dad right now, but yesterday when she came to my room she kept claiming she was ‘Nanika’, and wouldn’t tell me anything until I did some stupid shit for her.” </p><p>Illumi hasn’t heard the name <em> Nanika </em>since he was a teenager. What was he, seventeen? Eighteen? It was a problem that was solved right then and there, something Illumi never predicted he’d hear or even think about again. </p><p>He has no idea what this means. </p><p>“Anyways,” Milluki says, sitting back down, still ignoring the mess on the kitchen floor. “Alluka isn’t our biggest concern right now. <em> You </em>are. What the hell are you doing? You’re seriously considering risking dad’s anger and disapproval over some stupid story your ex-boyfriend told you?”</p><p>Illumi opens his mouth to respond, but Milluki cuts him off. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I…” Milluki’s shoulders drop, and he winces as if the words he’s speaking are painful to say. “I get it. Sometimes I’ll go on message boards or people will post fake leads on job sites and it’s just… this all fucking sucks, you know? And I’m glad that you’re trying to find something to focus on. Mama shutting down was bad and everything, but <em> you </em>shutting down was terrifying.” Milluki pinches the bridge of his nose, breathing in. “This, though? There’s a reason dad told us to leave these rumors alone. This isn’t going to end well for you, it just isn’t.”</p><p>Illumi doesn’t remember the last time his brother was so vulnerable with him. It’s out of character to be sure, and there’s a small voice in Illumi telling him to let the entire matter go in order to respect that. </p><p>But he can’t let it go, not while the picture Hisoka showed him is still so fresh in his mind. “You are probably correct,” Illumi concedes. “I told Hisoka today I was not interested in what he had to say, but I have made up my mind. I am going to call him tomorrow and tell him that I do want to meet with Klemins, regardless of whether or not you decide to help me.”</p><p>Milluki scratches his forehead. “I don’t understand you sometimes. Why even ask me for help if you’re just going to go back to him tomorrow anyways? Whatever. I’m not…” Milluki trails off, not offering an end to his sentence. Instead, he just sighs. </p><p>Not knowing what else to say, Illumi stands and goes to leave Milluki in the same way he left Hisoka. Unlike earlier, however, Milluki says one final thing before he’s out the door. “I know you know this already, but for what it’s worth, I won’t tell mama or dad about this.” </p><p>Illumi turns back to look at Milluki and nods. Belatedly, Illumi notices the wine still spilt on the floor. “Oh. I’ll send someone to clean the rest of that up.” </p><p>Milluki shakes his head. “It’s fine, I’ll deal with it.” </p><p>With that, Illumi leaves. He’s heading towards his room when he hears another voice call out to him from the living room. “Illuni!” Kalluto says, running up to him. “I didn’t realize you were home, have you eaten dinner yet? I was about to—” Kalluto stops, eyes widening. “What happened? Are you okay?” </p><p>Illumi isn’t sure what he’s talking about at first, but he sees that Kalluto is looking at his hand. Oh, right. The bleeding has stopped, but with the glass still lodged in his hand, the wound looks pretty serious. Kalluto takes Illumi’s injured hand in his own and begins leading him towards the nearest bathroom. “I’ll clean it up for you,” Kalluto says. “None of the cuts look too deep. Did it hurt?” </p><p>“Yes it did,” Illumi tells him. “You should be more careful than I am.” </p><p>Truthfully, though, Illumi hadn’t felt it at all.</p>
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